“If we use the Patriot Act the information can be admissible,” Jordan noted intelligently. He was the first brainy guy Vince sincerely liked. He stared at him in wonder for several moments. “She is using violence against civilians to attain her own personal goals.”
“Wow, that’s a stretch to call someone murdering rapists a terrorist.” But Vince thought about it for several moments and decided, “I like it.”
“Good, take it up with your boss. Have you settled back in at work?”
“About that…” Vince didn’t want to tell Jordan he hadn’t been in the office, or called his boss. Former Colonel White was a hard-ass and a stickler for the rules. He wasn’t sure if he would be welcomed back into the flock. Jordan slid a piece of paper across the table, and Vince picked it up.
I told them Arianna kidnapped us and threatened to kill the other if we tried to escape,
he read. “But then Ari…” he started, but Jordan shot him the evil eye again. “J could get in trouble,” he corrected.
“Any more than she already is?” Jordan wondered. “She’s not coming back anyway. We have to keep our stories consistent. And you look like you were kidnapped.”
Vince stared long and hard into his coffee. “I can’t do it.”
“Then I’ll look like a liar,” Jordan pointed out. “Just stick with the story.” Jordan placed some money on the table and put on his jacket. “I have to get back to work. By the way my office is bugged. Yours probably is too.”
“Dinner at seven,” Vince wondered aloud before he walked off.
“Sure,” Jordan nodded. They were each the other’s connection to Arianna. They shared her now; they both loved her. They had to trust each other for her sake. Vince decided to move into Arianna’s apartment, to keep a closer eye on Jordan and to feel closer to her. The last thing he wanted was for Jordan to get hurt.
“So, you’re Juan,” Arianna asked as he stood outside her door. His name tag announced he was the man she hunted.
“Yes,” he said with a nod and a frown. “Can I come in?”
“Of course,” Arianna said brightly. She couldn’t help but notice the man’s many tattoos; including a teardrop on his cheek. She wanted to cut the man’s hands off for touching her sweet, delicate Jordan. But she couldn’t do that. She had to plan it precisely.
“So, do you know anywhere to get good Mexican food in this town?” She wondered as she hovered at his shoulder. He tried the buttons on the heater, but it didn’t work.
“Sure, the Rio is straight down this road on the left,” he said as he bent down. “This is your problem. Someone unplugged the unit.” He plugged it back into the wall and swore in Spanish as he stood up.
“Darn,” Arianna said delicately. “And I froze all night because of that?”
“It’s okay,” he said in a tone that said it was not okay and she was a total idiot. “Call us if you need anything else.”
“Thanks, I will,” she said with a grin as she shut the door behind him. She decided to go and case out his house while she knew he was working. She stepped outside into the cold Kentucky air, and shivered as she realized she didn’t have a warm coat with her. She would have to buy one, she thought, as she remembered the credit cards in her purse. Jordan would want her to have one, and he did give her the money. She felt smug and untouchable once again as she headed toward her car.
She pushed a button, like Jordan showed her, and said the address on the piece of paper he left for her. The car showed her exactly where to go, and the heated leather seats were a distinct added bonus.
She pulled up in front of Juan’s house, according to Jordan, and parked across the street. It was a small, neat house on a street of small neat houses. She probably couldn’t park there long without raising suspicions. But she didn’t need to, because a car drove up soon after her and parked in the driveway. The driver, a woman, pried herself out of the driver’s seat. She was heavily pregnant, and collected a small child out of the backseat before heading into the house.
Arianna fought tears as she drove away. Did she want to take the woman’s husband, the children’s father? Could she do that?
She thought about it for several moments, and remembered her innocent, soft, caring Jordan. Yes, she could do that, she decided. She pushed the button again, and spoke the words, “Ladies clothes.” A menu popped up, and she picked a national chain store nearby. She wouldn’t even feel guilty about it, she decided.
The whispers spread like wildfire, and Vince knew they were all about him. He walked past the other offices down the hallway, and as soon as he sat down at his desk his phone rang.
“May I speak to you in my office,” Colonel White asked politely when he answered.
“Of course, sir.” Vince hung up the phone and headed that way. He felt dread seep up his spine, even more so than when Arianna stared at him as she drove away.
“Take a seat,” his boss ordered when Vince walked in the room. Vince sat patiently, waiting for the older man to speak. His boss lived through three wars and 8 tours of duty. He was a big man with skin as brown as mahogany and eyes as dark as night. Vince would be intimidated by him, even if White wasn’t his boss.
White paused dramatically, tapping his fingers together in front of his face. “You look like hell,” he finally said. Vince nodded. “Did she do that to your face?” Vince stared down at the floor. He didn’t want to call Jordan a liar, and he didn’t want to implicate Arianna for something she didn’t do. “It doesn’t matter now. The DOJ has dropped the investigation of Secretary Tremblay. The orders came all the way down from the President himself. As of this moment, you’re off the case.”
One of Vince’s strong suits, he knew when to keep his mouth shut. It helped him in the Marines, and it helped him when he was a teenager. And now, he stayed silent, and nodded.
“I like that about you, Argento. You know how to agree with your superiors. I don’t care what Wolf said, you have a bright future ahead of you.”
Vince smirked, but he nodded and agreed. “Yes, sir.”
“I’m moving you to the surveillance team. Talk to Kang about where he needs you.”
Vince pursed his lips and nodded again. “Yes, sir.”
“You’re a good kid, Argento. Don’t let me down. Take this seriously and you’ll be back in the field in no time.” White’s expression didn’t change, but Vince knew he was being truthful. If anything White was straight forward. This was his punishment; sitting in an apartment or a hotel room for ten hours a day listening in on someone the bureau thought might be spying. He couldn’t say it was the worst punishment he ever had. He took his lumps like a man. He stood and shook White’s hand. White shook his back, strong and firm.
Vince left the room, and White made a call. “I’ve moved him to the surveillance team. What he doesn’t know is he’ll be the one under surveillance.”
“I knew I could count on you, Colonel,” Margo Tremblay said on the other end of the line. “I’ll be sure to put in a good word with your boss when I have him over for dinner on Wednesday.”
“I want to be moved somewhere warm. Los Angeles is a fine city. I’m tired of the Virginia winters,” he said with a shiver as he looked out his window. “And I want a bigger office.”
“I always keep my promises,” the Secretary said with a chuckle. “You’ll be in Los Angeles before the end of the year.”
“Yes, ma’am,” White said eagerly as he hung up the phone.
Jordan sat in his office in a basement a few buildings over from the field office on 4
Street. He had only a few overhead lights. He preferred bulbs, not fluorescents. He would have preferred natural lighting, but most of two walls were covered with monitors. The other two were filled with shelving that held computers, printers, networking gear, and one amazing stereo system that played 80s light rock. He preferred Chicago, but he also liked Wham and Air Supply.
He monitored everything. He was the man who kept the satellites pointed in the right direction, and the traffic cameras pointed at the pedestrians. He was big brother. He created the algorithm that monitored, recorded, and analyzed the information gathered by these robotic cameras, and only he knew how to keep it running. If he died it would take the government years to crack his code; and that’s what he was counting on when he ran off with Arianna and Vince. He knew there would be no offensive operation by the Secretary or the FBI as long as he was with them. He was truly indispensible. Others had attempted the same thing and succeeded, but his algorithm was by far the most efficient.
Since he knew how to monitor everything, he knew how to keep from being monitored. At precisely 5 pm he left his desk. If he didn’t call in with the code for the networking gear every six hours when he was not as his desk, the equipment would shut down. Half of the code was generated by the computer and sent to his phone which only he had the password for. The other half of the code was his voice. He thought he made it completely secure, and it had not been hacked since he created the set-up five years ago.
He recorded the conversation between White and the Secretary. He would inform Vince at dinner, and then he would arrange a meeting with the Secretary. He thought she would want to hear his terms, and he was sure she would agree to them.
He hummed as he walked toward his new SUV. He wouldn’t keep it, of course, even though it was a hybrid. He’d go back to his electric car and give this one to charity. But he felt closer to Arianna knowing they drove the exact same car, even if they were hundreds of miles apart.
Arianna took off her new wool coat and hung it on the back of her seat. She could have sat in a booth, but she preferred to sit at the bar. It had the best view of the entrance, and she could listen to all the gossip. She just hoped it wasn’t all in Spanish; she failed that class in high school.
She ordered a margarita and thanked God that Jordan didn’t want Jane Brown to be underage. She smiled at the bartender when he delivered it, and gave him two bucks. She would sip her margarita and eat chips for a while, and wait.
She was just ordering her second margarita when he entered the restaurant, alone. He still wore the motel shirt with his name tag. He must have just got off work. She turned up one corner of her mouth for him. It said she was interested, but not easy.
“I’ll have a beer,” he said to the bartender as he sat down beside Arianna.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you this evening,” she said as she twirled the straw around her drink.
“You weren’t?” He asked with that smug, self-assured tone that she hated. Every one of the monsters she hunted had the same tone, the same attitude.
No, she reminded herself, she would not feel guilty. “Maybe I was,” she said as she showed him her teeth. For some reason men interpreted it as a smile. Maybe they just saw what they wanted to see. But just because the tiger showed her teeth, it didn’t mean she was smiling…
“I want to be moved somewhere warm. Los Angeles is a fine city.” Jordan played the recording from his cell phone, but he’d already copied it over to the computer and to a memory stick that he wore around his wrist disguised as a medic alert bracelet. It said he was allergic to penicillin; he had to think of something innocuous to put on it.
“He was the one man I trusted,” Vince said as he slammed his hand down on the counter in Jordan’s apartment. They decided to meet there instead of going out. Jordan swept the apartment for bugs when he came home from work, and found two. He flushed them down the toilet just like he did the others. He’d never been that careful, because he usually didn’t say anything while he was in his apartment.
Looking back now he couldn’t understand how he lived that way; coming home everyday to his soup or sandwiches and his TV, having acquaintances over on the weekends because he was the only one without a wife or a girlfriend who didn’t live in his parent’s basement.
He couldn’t hide his disappointment as he stared at Vince. He knew how he felt, though. He knew what it was like not to trust anyone, especially men. But he thought the three of them had formed a bond during those nights they spent together.
“Until I met you,” Vince said with a grin when he noticed the expression on Jordan’s face. When Jordan still frowned Vince put his hand on the younger man’s shoulder and shook him. “You know what I meant,” he coaxed. Then he moved his hand up to Jordan’s neck, right under his ear. He had the overwhelming urge to kiss him on his soft little mouth, but he didn’t. Not yet, he told himself, and placed his hand back on the counter. His dark eyes were like melted chocolate when he gazed at Jordan. “What’s the plan, boy wonder?”
“We get the Secretary to back off Arianna, and then she can come back to Washington.” He said it as he took a bite of the last piece of pizza, just cheese of course. He was determined to make vegetarians out of Vince and Arianna as well. And when he thought it, he felt it. They were a team; indivisible.
“How do you intend to do it,” Vince wondered. He saw the new emotion in Jordan’s eyes. His heart raced, and his throat was suddenly dry. And he was hard.
“Blackmail.” His brown eyes held mischief, and something wicked. Vince understood Jordan’s feelings, because he himself would hurt anyone who hurt Arianna.
Arianna could barely hide her disdain for the man any longer. Not only did he violate Jordan but he was about to betray the trust his wife put in his as well. He’d touched Arianna’s hand and arm enough times for her to know what he wanted. Now he just had to ask her to meet him, somewhere private and away from the motel.
“It’s getting late, and I,” Arianna began, and turned to gather her coat.
“Come home with me,” he said smoothly.
“You’re not married?” She knew he was; she just couldn’t wait to hear his answer.
“Yes, but she’s staying with her mother tonight.” Juan said it, then wished he hadn’t. He should have lied, but he wanted the pretty blonde with the banging body more than he wanted to make up a story. Then he wrote his address on a napkin, and handed it to her. “I hope to see you soon,” he said as he left
“Do you have a lighter?” Arianna asked the bartender after Juan was gone for several minutes. The bartender’s look said it all, he thought of her as a slut for accepting a married man’s number. She made a show of lighting the napkin on fire and watching it burn for several moments; then she dropped in into the remnants of Juan’s beer where it fizzled and went out. She raised several notches in the bartender’s esteem with that act; as if she cared. “Married men,” she sighed loudly, and ordered another drink. She remained in the restaurant for another thirty minutes, planning exactly what would happen next.